


Sparks Nevada Marshal at the End of the World

by Firegirl210



Category: Sparks Nevada Marshal on Mars, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Paternal!Sparks, Walker Pact, Zombie AU, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firegirl210/pseuds/Firegirl210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every fandom needs a Zombie AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now

**Author's Note:**

> In case you forgot, Alex Cartwright was introduced in episode 74 and basically spent the whole time hero-worshipping Sparks. Most of the martians featured in this fic and a couple of townsfolk are OCs just to pad out their group. I would say I'm sorry about this story, but...I'm not.

If you had asked me years ago if I believed in things like the dead rising and the world ending, I would probably have said sure. I mean, I’ve saved the world enough times to know that it tries to go tits up every time I turn my back. And Croach died and got resurrected by the Force Galactic that one time. You kind of just assume everything will work out for the best in the end. Life goes on and all that.

I don’t believe that anymore.

The outbreak started on Venus. A new virus. It started out like a flu—high fever, the sweats, the chills. Vomiting, aches and pains. Insomnia.

Then it got a little worse. Sleepwalking, muscle pain, paranoia. Hypersensitivity to light and sound. Seizures. Hallucinations. The infected started lashing out at their caretakers, and they had a tendency towards biting.

From Venus it spread. One carrier became pockets of sick. It was worrying, but no reason to panic.

At least, that’s what they told us.

When the first one died, they put her in the ground. Three days later, she clawed her way to the surface and chewed her way through five terrified Venutian graveyard visitors before a severed brain stem put her down for good.

She was the first. Then there were dozens, then hundreds, then more than the USSA could handle. They surged up and over each planet in waves, infecting, consuming, destroying. It came to Mars quietly, without drawing much attention. So when Jilm Lynchtree went down with a flu, no one thought anything of it. But then Callusandra caught it, and Insanity Jane, and soon the whole Lynchtree clan was shivering and sweating and crying for help. Doc Jenkins went by to see to them and, well…you can probably guess where this story is going.

Anyway, a lot went down in between then and now. I’m camped out with what may be the only survivors left on this planet on the Terra Sirenum highlands to the South of nowhere. We’re just a ragtag team of twenty or so, trying our best to stay out of the way of the Walkers. I don’t know how long we can hold out with the supplies we’ve got, but I can’t let the others know that—

“Hey. Brought you some dinner.”

I looked up from my journaling to see Alex Cartwright coming up over the ridge bearing a bowl.

“That Chili?” I asked hopefully, and she nodded. “Awwww yeah,” I grinned, taking it from her, and she sat down next to me.

“Any sign of movement out there?”

“Nothin’ as of yet. When the moons go down I’m gonna get Croach up here. No Walkers could sneak up on us, even in the dark.”

She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. She had been a girl, barely a teenager when I had seen her last. She was practically a woman now, and I couldn’t help but be glad that she wasn’t so young anymore.  This world was no place for children. Not even mostly grown ones.

“Where are we heading next?”

“Well we’re aimin’ to stick to high ground. If we can, I’m plannin’ on getting up to the Mountains. Figure no Walkers’ll get us up there.”

“Yeah. That’s a good place.”

Down in the hollow we had chosen to shelter us from the wind a fire was burning surrounded by a high rock wall. It dimmed the flames’ brightness a bit, and would hopefully keep it from drawing them to us. The Marjuns were singing, a low, mournful sound that could have been mistaken for the wind if I didn’t know what it was. They danced too, some nights, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Why don’t you mosey down and tell Croach to get up here?” I suggested, resting a hand on her arm, and she got up, brushing herself off, and ambled down the hill in her boots that were hand-me-downs from Widow Johnson or Red or some other woman. Maybe even from a woman who was no longer with us.

I lay down on my back, looking up at the sky. The stars, the planets, the moons—they were all still there. The world was ending, but the universe kept spinning on thoughtlessly.

“You are not sleeping on duty are you, Sparks Nevada?” Croach’s loud baritone broke into my dour reverie, and I sat up with an eye roll.

“Naw, Croach, just doin’ some stargazin’.  Wanna join me?”

Croach looked at me with a sort-of expression I had learned meant he was trying to figure out if I was using sarcasm or humor or being straight with him, and I patted the ground beside me. He folded himself beside me, the bioluminescent patches around his eyes pulsing softly with greens and blues.

“You’re not very good at blending in in the dark, you know,” I pointed out, and the glowing faded.

“I had not realized I was emitting bioluminescence. I am under Onus to you for pointing out my lapse in control.”

“Ain’t no place for Onus in this world, Croach. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t reply—we had had this conversation before, and couldn’t seem to come to common ground. I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him tonight.

“You should sleep, Sparks Nevada. I am capable of completing a shift of patrol on my own and will wake the Red Plains Rider when the allotted time has passed.”

“If you wanted to get rid of me you just had to say so,” I teased, rising to my feet, and he caught my jacket, tugging me back.

“I do not wish to be rid of you, Sparks Nevada. I did not mean to imply—”

“Kiddin’, Croach. Just kiddin’.”

He let go of my duster, seeming embarrassed at his extreme reaction. I stretched, cracked my back, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Have a good watch. I’m gonna get some rest.”

I tramped down the hill to the camp where our group was scattered in various states of sleep or near-to. Felton, Widow Johnson, and the baby Johnson were snuggled in a tender pile of familial protection. Barkeep nodded to me as he draped a blanket over Alex, who had rolled out her bedroll beside Brekany, the owner of the town’s Inn. Brekany and her wife Kris were already asleep.

I tipped my hat to Gunter and Aminy, two frontier folk we had picked up. Aminy was a doctor, and was tending to A’nyu the Gatherer, a Marjun who’d been injured in the last encounter with the Walkers. No bites nor scratches, thankfully, but a nasty headwound.

I got to my bedroll and flopped gracelessly on it, kicking my boots of and heaving a sigh. Every bone in my body ached, and I wished not for the first time that the zombie apocalypse had happened when I was just a little younger and sprightlier.

I glanced at the form on the blanket beside mine; Red was turned on her side, and seemed to be asleep. I cushioned my head on my hands and closed my eyes for a much deserved night’s rest.

“Nevada, you awake?”

I opened my eyes and glanced at Red. She had turned to face me silently, and her eyes were luminous and dark and serious in the darkness.

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to talk to ya bout somethin’.”

I rolled on my side to face her, to shield our conversation from any curious ears. I couldn’t help but remember the times we had laid so close like this in very different circumstances. During times long gone.

“What about?”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“You wanna be more specific? I mean I can make up a promise, but I can’t promise it’ll be the one you want.”

She punched me in the shoulder, glowering. I rubbed the spot discreetly--she never did pull her punches.

“No. I mean will you promise to do something if I ask you to.”

“Probably. Depends what it is.”

She moved closer, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“If I get bit—“

“Aw, Red, c’mon. I don’t wanna talk about this.”

“Well we’re gonna. Don’t turn away, don’t tune me out, Nevada!” she hissed, pulling me back to face her when I tried to roll away and pretend we weren’t starting this conversation, that the world wasn’t ending, that everything was fine.

“If I get bit, which I might and you know it, you gotta promise me, promise me that you’ll put me down. I don’t wanna come back as one a those things. An’ Croach…I don’t think he has it in ‘im to do what needs doin’.”

“What, and you think I do? You think I could shoot you Red?” I demanded in a sharp whisper, and she fixed me with a fierce look and shook me by the lapels.

“Keep yer voice down. And honestly…I think if you had to, you could. I don’t know if I can say the same about Croach.”

She took my face, surprisingly gentle. “Promise?”

I sighed, covering her hands with mine and resting my forehead against hers. Could I even make this promise? If the time came, if she was infected and the only thing between her and becoming a Walker was me and my laser pistols… could I pull that trigger?

“I’ll do what I can, Red.”

We turned away, settling down to snatch what sleep we could. Her voice came one more time through the darkness several minutes later.

“I’d do the same for you, Nevada.”

“I know Red,” I murmured.

“I know.”


	2. Before

Something was pounding at my door, and I floundered out of bed, stumbled to the window. Who would be raising Cain at this hour…?

“Marshal, haaaaaaaalp!”

“Felton, what are you doin’ here? You can’t come to my house, man,” I slurred, mouth thick and fuzzy feeling, but the pounding continued.

“Marshal, somethin’ is terribly, terribly wrong!  My hypercattle done been eaten!”

“Eaten? Felton, what’re you talkin’ about? Ain’t nothin’ on Mars what could eat Hypercattle.”

“I knowed it, and you knowed it, but that don’t mean that we ain’t both wrong!”

I threw my coat, my boots, my holsters on over my pajamas and followed Felton through a stiff wind to his cattle ranch at the outskirts of town. We approached the wooden fence, and he gestured to a section that had been splintered and pushed through, the wood streaked dark with...something.

“You hear any kinda commotion out here, Felton?” I asked, and he suddenly gripped my arm with a soft whimper. I followed the direction of his trembling pointing gesture, and a sickly tendril of uncertainty clenched up in my stomach.

Just visible in the dim light of the moons, both half full, I could make out a writhing movement. The sound of low, gutteral animal sounds and the wet tearing of flesh drifted to me on the wind, and I unholstered my laser pistol, gesturing for Felton to stay behind me.

“What do you reckon it is?” he whispered too loudly in my ear and I shushed him, stepping lightly over the broken fence. To my left, the visceral remains of a hypercow shimmered dully in the moonlight, and I covered my face with my sleeve to block the smell of blood and gore. Whatever had done that...I didn’t want to meet too personal.

I approached the second kill, heart thundering in my ears. This wasn’t a robot outlaw or a cyborg varmint--this was something I hadn’t ever seen before. And although I wouldn’t admit it to Felton...I was a little bit scared.

I scuffed my boot on a stone and several heads whipped up from the mass, eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. _Marjun_ heads, big black Marjun eyes, Marjun mouths streaked with blood and dangling flesh. One rose to its knees, hissing like a wildcat, and I stumbled back with a strangled curse.

“Felton! Felton they’re Marjuns! They musta--musta gone savage or somethin’!” I backpedalled away, but they were all looking at me now, relinquishing the steaming remains of their kill and moving towards me with a strange, staggering motion. A pale figure, definitely not blue, screeched at me, and a cold, sick panic clawed its way down my spine.

Insanity Jane Lynchtree swayed to her feet, her once shiny blonde hair clumped and matted and torn away in patches. Her lower jaw hung at a strange angle, and through her tattered dress the shiny white of bloodied bone caught the moonlight.

I ain’t proud of what I did next; I turned tail and bolted, vaulting the fence and grabbing Felton’s coat, pulling him after me.

“What’s happenin’ Marshal?” he asked in a quavering voice, and I shook my head. My hands were trembling.

“I ain’t sure, Felton. They--they’re...Marjuns, and townsfolk. They’re people. Reckon they used to be anyhow. Can’t rightly justify shootin’ em, can I?”

“If’n they’re fixin’ to eat us you can!” he retorted, and I turned, gauging the distance between us and the bloodthirsty pack.

“How...how can this be happening?” I panted, and he clung to my arm with a mournful wail.

“They’re zombies, Marshal! Honest to goodness _Zombies_!”

I tightened my grip on my laser pistols, took a deep breath, caught Jane Lynchtree in my sights, and pulled the trigger.


	3. Now

I grimaced, sweeping off my hat and wiping my forehead with my bandana as sweat soaked into the brim. It was hot as hades today, and it didn’t help that we were currently trekking downwards through a crater rather than trying to go around it. As we descended, the heat closed in, choking us with dust and haze.

“Sparks Nevada,” a Martian named Treef the Rockskipper rode up beside me and Mercury on her hoversaddle, her face shaded by a transparent green poker visor. She had won it in a game of cards with an off-worlder and was right proud of it. “There are members among the party who require rest and liquid sustenance.”

“I wouldn’t object to a little breather, but this ain’t the time nor the place Treef. Tell ‘em we’re makin’ for that rock formation there. When we get to it there oughtta be some shade too. If they’re out of water, give ‘em some from this,” I instructed, unslinging a Marjun made waterskin from my back and handing it to her. She nodded and  zipped back to the end of the group. I clicked at Mercury, who slowed to match pace with Red and Carbonite. She had Baby Johnson in her lap, and her rifle slung over her back to make room for him. He was slobbering something fierce on her gloves, and I could see a twitch of irritation at the corner of her mouth.

“Red, could you find out who’s bad off and have some switch out with the riders? We don’t want anyone dropping without even puttin’ up a fight.”

“Sure, Nevada,” she agreed too easily, and dumped the Baby Johnson in my lap before veering off to check on the others. I took the chubby, bright eyed toddler and lashed him to my front to keep him from tipping off.

“Did you, uh, like ridin’ with Red?” I asked, and the child replied by drooling on my robot fists, which was neither cool nor hygienic.

We made it to the formation I had been aiming for and passed around what water we had. I grimaced to discover were running dangerously low. Of the resources on Mars, water was among the most precious and the most difficult to find. We weren’t a group built for travel. The townsfolk were lagging behind, those unaccustomed to riding were achey and saddle-sore, and the Marjuns were patching moccasins worn straight through to the sole.

I sat down heavily next to Alex, who was in the process of removing her too-big boots. She sucked in breath, stop-starting and pausing tensely.

“You need help there, Buckaroo?” I ventured, and she shook her head. She grimaced and clenched her eyes closed and yanked the boot off with an agonized cry. Her feet were blistered raw, and one of her toenails had torn away, leaving a ragged, bloody wound. I gave a low whistle as she bit down hard on her lip, trying not to cry.

“You got some real battle wounds there, huh? I got some moonshine what’ll help a little with the pain, if you want it.” She sniffled, and I rested a hand on her knee. “Want me to help with the second one?”

She shook her head. “No…no, I can do it. I have to be strong, for my dad. I’ll take some of that moonshine though.”

I chuckled and pulled out the bottle, offering it to her as she took some fast, steadying breaths and then yanked the second boot off. She took a swig of the moonshine, then grimaced.

“Gross.”

“Yeah, it is. You did good. You oughta go see Aminy about those blisters, she’ll fix ya up. And maybe one a the Marjuns’ll make you a nice pair o’ moccasins. You can’t wear these boots any more.”

“You think they’d make me some?” she asked hopefully, and I elbowed her.

“They’ll prolly put you under onus for a bit, but if’n they got the supplies I bet you could strike a deal. Ask Croach to ask Krik the Weaver for you. He likes young’uns.”

“I’m not a young’un,” Alex retorted, pushing my elbow away, but she rose tenderly on raw feet and ambled over to the elderly Martian seated crosslegged in the meager shade of a boulder. I took a swig of the moonshine, letting it burn down my throat. Wished we had more of it. It may take the edge off.

A shadow blotted out the sharp glare of the sun, and I squinted up to see Croach holding out a canteen to me.

“You should not be imbibing alcohol, Sparks Nevada. It is a dehydrating agent,” he pointed out, crouching beside me, and I rolled my eyes as I allowed myself a medium sized gulp of warm, stale water.

“I ain’t drinkin’ Croach. No cause for worry.”

A deep voice called in the Marjun tongue, and Croach glanced at the Martian currently on watch perched atop a rock and nodded. He used my shoulder for leverage to reach a standing position, and brushed his leggings off.

“Hey Croach?” I asked, and he glanced my way. “If’n...If’n one a the company got bit. Who do you think should be the one to, you know... take care of it?”

He got a determined set to his jaw. “We shall simply prevent the situation from arising.”

I sighed, rubbing my eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll just do that.”

I leaned back on my hands, tipping my hat over my eyes to catch a few brief moments of respite. I had barely gotten comfortable when a presence knelt down next to me, pulling my hat off my face.

“Don’t panic, but we need to get everyone moving,” Red said softly. I sat up quick, darting my eyes to where Croach stood on guard. His quantum bow was held at a relaxed ready, but it was knocked.

“How close are they?” I asked as I yanked my boots on.

“Not in view yet. Croach picked up the signs of a herd up around the lip a the crater. We’re downwind, but if’n the winds change they’ll be on us.”

“Get everyone packed,” I said softly, and we split to gather our group whilst creating as little panic as possible. It took longer than I had hoped, but we got everyone hurtin’ on horses and hoversaddles and everyone with a weapon on alert.

“Are there Walkers close by?” Widow Johnson asked from atop Mercury’s saddle, and I waved her worries off nonchalantly.

“Not close, no. Croach can pick up their traces miles off. We just wanna be safe rather’n sorry,” I promised. Felton wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her sharp shoulder, and she patted his hand.

“See? Marshal Nevada says they ain’t close. You got no cause to worry, Felton.”

“I cain’t help it, Wendy, I’m a worrier.”

I rolled my eyes; wasn’t that the truth.

We made slow but uninterrupted progress into the afternoon until the hoversaddle containing A’nyu the Gatherer and Kaleef-theet the Untangler (I was beginning to think that Martian job designations were 100% made up) returned from foraging.

“A’nyu the Gatherer has discovered signs of a water source, Sparks Nevada,” Kaleef-theet announced proudly, and A’nyu flushed a pleased shade of green. “It was a very impressive display of skills which are not included in her designated occupation.”

“Gathering water is an aspect of my occupation, Kaleef. I am under onus to you for your praise.”

“No, I am under onus to _you_ for being so adept at your occupation.”

“Well I am under onus to you for your flattery.”

“And I am under onus to you for your acknowledgement of my attempts at flattery. None of which are exaggerated in any way.”

“Please stop,” I interrupted the two marjuns who were obviously making the most of the whole apocalypse thing to further their budding romance. “Where’s this water source, A’nyu?”

“That is not how you pronounce her designation,” Kaleef-theet drawled, and I grit my teeth to prevent myself from pushing the both of them off the hoversaddle into the dirt.

“Where is the water?” I repeated, louder, losing patience.

“It is seven human units of measurement designated miles to the east,” she replied, and I rubbed my jaw thoughtfully. Too far out of our way to take everyone, and far enough it would be dangerous to go on foot.

“Did I hear somethin’ about water?” The rest of the group was clumping around the returned Martians, and excitement was spreading through them at the thought of water.

“Reckon it’s too far for us to all take a detour,” I announced, and there was some groaning and disappointment.

“C’mon, Marshal. We ain’t had a bath in weeks,” Aminy piped up.

“Please, Marshal?”

“Can’t we all go?”

“Fine, fine. Let’s go get us some water.”

The pace picked up noticeably with the thought of fresh water, and the mood lightened with a feel of hope it hadn’t had in weeks. Folks were laughing and chattering, and Naveem the Singer lifted a tune as we clopped along.

“I’m gonna take a bath and warsh my hair and scrub under my fingernails and toes. It’s gonna feel amazing,” Brekany mused, and Kris draped her arm around her.

“I’ll wash your back,” she said softly, and the innkeeper giggled and blushed.

“I’m just glad we don’t have to drink this gross water much longer,” Alex complained, sticking her tongue out at the waterskin in her hands.

“Better quit yer complainin’ cowpoke, or I’m gonna make you drink every last drop of the old water even after we find new water,” I chided, and got a tongue stuck at me for my troubles.

“It should be just within this canyon,” A’nyu called back, and I nodded, gesturing for her to lead on. We trailed in single file through the winding stone walls carved out by wind and water and eons, and I felt nervous energy building up under my skin. Being in a confined space like this made me anxious. No place to run, no room to make a stand. No way to protect everyone.

We turned a bend and there were cheers of elation--we could see the edge of a small pool of still water cradled in the sandstone. Alex broke away from the group and ran ahead around the corner to the full extent of the water source, and a bloodcurdling scream tore through the air. I broke into a run, forcing my way through the group.

Alex was standing at the edge of the pool with her hands over her mouth. I caught her by the shoulders, heart racing.

“What? What is it?”

She pointed weakly, and there were gasps and soft murmurs as we realized what had startled her.

At the edge of the pool a grisly carcass lay mangled in the shallows, mouth gaping in a final scream. His innards--what was left of them, anyway--were bloated from soaking in the only fresh water for miles, and flies buzzed and droned in the dismayed silence.

“It’s contaminated,” I said flatly. “The water’s no good.”

I punched the wall with my robot fist with a furious shout, cracking stone, and several people cringed.

“I am under onus to you all. I did not know,” A’nyu said weakly, and I pushed past her and swung up onto Mercury.

“We gotta find high ground to camp. It ain’t safe down in the canyon,” I snapped, and the group shuffled after me with soft murmurs of despair.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It wasn’t A’nyu’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not even mine. I had put so much hope on this little win, and I couldn’t even have that. I just couldn’t win.

 


	4. Before

“The Marshal Station doors are locked. Citizen requesting entry.”

“Which citizen?” I called tersely. The small Marshal station was full to bursting with panicked townsfolk and frontier folk who’d streamed into town in response to the terror outside. After that night in Felton’s field I hadn’t seen any of the...the word zombie left a bad, hokey taste in my mouth. The undead? The monsters? The revived human and martian bodies we used to know and care for?

“It’s Gunter and Aminy! Oh they made it! Marshal, let ‘em in,” Remy, a frontiersman from a homestead west of town called. “They’re our neighbors!”

“Do they look...y’know, alive?” I asked, and he nodded.

“Station doors, go ahead and let ‘em in,” I ordered. The doors slid open and two fair-skinned, fair-haired, anxious humans joined the milling panic already taking place inside. I was doing my best to stay calm; I’d heard rumors of an epidemic on some of the inner planets, but hadn’t really taken them seriously.

“I heard that it’s contagious. You don’t even have to be dead to get sick. You just sort of slowly start wanting to eat each other, and before you even know it you’re all zombies,” a voice to my left was muttering, and a slender hand slapped the chatty cathy upside the head with unapologetic force.

“Shame on you, Lukas, for spreading lies! There’s no proof of that, and you’re frightening everyone,” Widow Johnson chided, and Lukas the frontiersman looked guilty as he rubbed his head.

“Well it’s a disease, ain’t it? I heard there was some kinda outbreak on Venus an’ the whole planet shut down,” a frontier settler named Nikka interjected, and O’Toole snorted.

“Yeah right. We’da been _told_ if there was some kinda planet wide pandemic happenin’. It’s gotta be some kinda isolated incident causin’ trouble on this planet.”

“And the only ones we know for sure been infected is Marjuns! What if it can’t even infect humans? It may be a Marjun plague!”

“No, no, Remy, that ain’t true. I seen an infected human, it ain’t just Marjuns,” I interrupted, and the unsettled murmuring grew in pitch.

“What if we got it from the Marjuns? We may already been infected acuz o’ the Marjun deputy!”

“What--Croach? No, hey, he ain’t even here. Hey, don’t go blamin’ other people just cuz you’re scared!”

“I ain’t scared, Marshal. I’m a concerned citizen. Where is yer deputy anyway, Nevada?”

I chewed nervously on my tongue. “Well...see he ain’t here right now. I ain’t exactly sure where he is. But I’m sure he’s fine, and so are all o’ your friends and family outside a town. There’s no reason to panic yet.”

“Yet? That isn’t very comforting, Marshal,” Nikka muttered. I glowered at them.

“Yeah well I don’t see you try’na prevent mass panic,” I growled. The Baby Johnson was wailing in the corner, and it wasn’t doing anything for the rising tension.

“Can everyone keep it down? I’m trying to get through to the Troubleshooters at Nth Multiglobal and yer shoutin’ sounds an awful lot like the precursor to trouble in this place,” Barkeep shouted threateningly, and the disgruntled grumbling dimmed noticeably. I waded through the sea of people to where Barkeep was fiddling with the radio.

“Still no signal?”

“I got through once, but lost the transmission halfway through. I’d assume it’s an error in tech on this side,” he said pointedly, and I glowered at him.

“Ain’t my fault my tech ain’t up to yer standards, Barkeep, I ain’t married to a Troubleshooter. Yer wife’s off planet right now, ain’t she?”

“Her personal comm is turned off while she’s takin’ care of business and shootin’ up trouble. I’ll keep tryin’ it though.”

“Good work, Barkeep. If anyone can tell us what’s goin’ on, it’s The Troubleshooter. She’s probably already workin’ on a solution.”

He grimaced slightly. “I hope so, Marshal.”

“Marshal, there’s someone out there!”

Everyone rushed to the doors (with the exception of Felton, who cowered in the opposite direction) to see this newest development. I elbowed my way to the glass doors.

Four figures were stumbling down the dusty main street; two were supporting a third with her arms slung around their necks, and a fourth was roving in front and behind with a rifle checking for danger. They approached the doors and a shout of recognition came from someone inside.

“It’s Kris, Jonas, and Brekany! Let ‘em in, Marshal!”

“And that there is Melisa! She looks hurt.”

“Open doors,” I ordered, and stepped outside to relieve the obviously exhausted Brekany Wong from supporting her sister.

“What happened?” I asked, gesturing for the townsfolk to clear out of the way as we half dragged, half carried Melisa Wong to the small back room. Her head kept lolling to the side, and her eyes were rolled back in her head. She was covered in blood, the majority of which seemed to have originated from a ragged hole in the shoulder of her shirt.

“When we heard what was happening, we knew we had to get Melisa and Jonas, so Brekany and I went to get ‘em. When we got to their homestead, they were fighting off a couple a Walkers,” Kris explained as we lay Melisa on the floor.

“She has a shoulder wound; I-I tried to bandage it up, but--is anyone here a doctor?” Brekany asked, and I cast the question around the room. The woman--Aminy, I think-- who had come in from the plains earlier stood up, and I gestured for her to come with me.

“You got doctorin’ experience?” I asked, and she nodded.

“I was a nurse before we moved from Earth. Is there anywhere to clean up?”

“Yeah, there’s a washroom back there. Can I help?”

“I need a bucket of hot water, rags, bandages, and the closest thing to pure alcohol you can get me.” As I got up she started passing out orders. Brekany was holding the hand of the man who had been crouched silently beside Melisa the whole time. Aminy bent down in front of them with a gentle smile.

“Howdy, my name’s Aminy. Are you her family?” They nodded. “I need you stay with her. Talk to her, and put a cool rag on her face. Can you do that for me?”

Jonas nodded slowly, then deliberately, and Brekany smiled gratefully. We gathered supplies, and Aminy cut away Melisa’s bloody shirt carefully. The makeshift bandages were soaked through, and Melisa moaned when the innkeeper carefully peeled them away.

The wound was a deep missing hunk from the flesh of her shoulder, as if…

“Did one a those things take a bite outta her?” I asked in a hoarse whisper, and Jonas gave a little sob. Brekany’s jaw tightened as Aminy poured some alcohol over the gaping wound, and she looked away but stayed silent.

“Brekany, you gotta be straight with me.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see.”

I turned to Aminy, who’s pinched features were marble pale. “You got some doctorin’ experience, so you been around sickness right? This thing...is it like, communicable? Is she gonna...change?” I asked hesitantly.

“We don’t know anything about it,” Brekany spoke up tersely, and Aminy made no comment, instructing Kris to apply pressure as she wrapped. Jonas dabbed at his wife’s brow with a trembling hand. “We can’t let her die on the off-chance that she’s got...zombie disease. This isn’t a horror flick, this is real life Nevada!”

“Yeah, this is real life. And there _are_ zombies, so. The two ain’t exactly mutually exclusive anymore,” I hissed back. She cast an agonized glance at the limp form of her elder sister as Aminy cleaned off her hands.

“I ain’t gonna throw ‘er out. Just...keep her separate from everyone else. And keep an eye on ‘er. Until we know if this is gonna spread. Okay?”

Brekany nodded tightly, and I nodded and left them to their own devices.

The sun was beginning to go down, and people were getting antsy. There were too many of them packed into a small space, and nowhere to put them all.

“We can’t all sleep in here, Marshal,” Lukas said, and I brushed him off.

“Well what do you suggest?” I barked, my fuse just about burned out.

“We could go to the boarding house,” Widow Johnson spoke up, and we all looked her way. “There’s not enough rooms for everyone to spread out, but...there’s more room than here, and soft beds for some of us.”

“And it ain’t a far journey. We ain’t actually seen any of these zombies in town yet, so I bet we could make it.”

“And the general store is on the way, we can pick up supplies!  
“Well it’s gettin’ dark...why didn’t we think a this earlier?”

“Dark don’t matter, we got lights. It ain’t the stone age.”

“Why are we still waitin’ around here? Let’s get a move on!”

“Alright, alright, it’s a good plan, but we gotta all go at once. Could someone rig up a stretcher for Melisa while we get lights?” I called over the din, and the townsfolk began the long, bumbling, frustrating process of organizing themselves. When we finally were ready, it was heavy night and I was tense as a bowstring ready to snap.

“Everybody ready?” I asked in a stage whisper, and they mumbled their affirmative. I took a deep breath and put my hand on the lever to manually pulled the deactivated station doors open.

“Alright then...one, two, THREE!”


	5. Now

A scream woke us. I was on my feet with my laser pistols in hand before I was fully conscious, and felt the two figures I always kept by my side lurching up.

“What’s goin’ down?” Red asked breathlessly, and Croach went stock still, doing some tracking thing no doubt.

“We are being ambushed,” he said in a tight voice, and I lunged forward, rousing the party. Shapes were staggering towards us in the darkness, and that soulless groaning, moaning wail rose and fell around us, from all sides.

“Everyone up! Up! To me!” I shouted, turning and shooting concentrated laser fire through a Walker’s skull.

Another scream went up, the same voice, piercing and shrill. Who was it? A woman. Her terror turned to agony even as I listened, and then cut off suddenly, horribly.

“Walkers! Walkers! Get up, go, go, go!”

I nearly stumbled over a smallish familiar shape, and I hauled Alex to her feet. She was shaking hard, silent and stony.

“Croach, Treef, Naveem, anyone! Gimme some bioluminescence! We gotta see!” I ordered, and several figures began to glow in the darkness. There was movement everywhere, closing in all around us, and I felled two more as they moved in on Mercury.

I swept Alex up in my arms and threw her onto Mercury’s saddle, and the horse bucked and whinnied in panic as shadows danced in our peripheral vision.

“Sparks Nevada! To your left!”

“I see ‘em, Croach, don’t waste time pointin’ it out! Just shoot!”

He whipped out his quantum bow, and it twanged with energy as he loosed an arrow. It flew true, lodging in the eye socket of a half-decayed denizen of Mars. He unsheathed his to’moha-awk, crushing in the skull of a Walker clawing at the legs of the A’nyu the Gatherer. She scrambled to her feet, screaming and crying something about Kaleef-theet. Half of it came out in her native tongue and I didn’t have time to decipher what she was saying.

“Scatter! Meet up by the stagnant pool at daybreak!” I hollered, using the last charge in my gun to immobilize a Walker with a dislodged eye dangling down its chin. A laser bullet zipped by my ear, charring the brains of a walker I hadn’t even noticed coming up on me. The Widow Johnson was backing towards me, firing off rounds as she covered a blubbering Felton who was carrying The Baby Johnson.

“On the horse, go,” I instructed, hoisting Felton onto the saddle behind Alex, and he grabbed onto the reins around the children. I held a hand out to Widow Johnson, but she slapped Mercury's rump and he took off into the darkness. Mercury knew where we were meeting; I hoped and even prayed a little bit that they would make it to morning on their own.

“Nice shootin’,” I noted, and she sniped a Walker that was feasting on...on someone. I swallowed hard, feeling bile rise up in my throat.

“Thanks. Can you tell how many of them there are?” she asked, slinging the rifle over her back to recharge and taking a wrench from where it had been stashed down her boot. I decided that Widow Johnson was definitely someone I wanted on my team.

“Ain’t positive. Couple dozen?”

We skirmished our way towards the flickering blue-green shapes of two marjuns; Treef the Rockskipper and Naveem the Singer nearly took our heads off when we approached.

“Stand down, soldiers, it’s us,” I squawked, and Treef wiped a black streak of blood off of her face.

“We have lost Krik the Weaver,” Treef said flatly, and it sounded a bit strained to me. Marjuns and their lack of emotions was a bunch of horseshit. She was obviously upset, and Naveem was leaning over with his hands on his knees, trembling.

“You alright?” I asked, and he retched violently, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and straightening unsteadily.

“Biological reflex,” he explained in a small voice. “Unavoidable reaction.”

“We gotta gather whoever is left and get ‘em somewhere safe,” I said, pistol-whipping a marjun Walker with my gun that was taking too long to recharge.

“Agreed.”

We hurried as quietly as possible in the direction of another glowing Marjun; this one I recognized by the shade of his bioluminescence. Croach was hacking away with his to’moha-awk, and a Walker received a machete to the brain as a flash of red rustled past me.

“Who’ve we got here?” I asked Croach as the others formed a protective ring around me, and he gestured down at the huddled figure of Aminy. She was letting out little dry sobs, as if she had no more tears to shed, and was clutching the huge limp hand of her husband Gunter. He had a bloody crescent bitten out of his forearm, and a small dark bullet burn on the side of his head. I didn’t want to know who’d taken that shot.

“We have been unable to locate the humans designated Kris, Brekany, Alex Cartwright--”

“No, no, Mercury’s got Alex, Felton, and baby Johnson.”

“The Barkeep, Kleef-theet the Untangler, and Krik the Weaver are also unaccounted for.”

“Kleef-theet the Untangler and Krik the Weaver are accounted for,” Treef interjected darkly, holding a snapping walker at arm’s length and shoving her bladed to’moha-awk through its jaw up into its brain. “They are no longer with us.”

“Think the others heard me hollerin’ about the canyon?” I asked, and Red grimaced as she was splattered with brain flecks from Widow Johnson caving in a skull with her wrench beside her.

“Reckon everything within a mile heard you Nevada,” she replied, and I gripped Aminy by the arm.

“Sorry darlin’, we ain’t got time to mourn.” I hauled her to her feet and we booked it to the remaining hoversaddles. Carbonite reared as we approached; she had obviously held her own, smashing in walkers’ heads with her hooves if the bodies littering the ground about her were any indication.

“You sure this is just a regular horse…?” I muttered as Red hauled Aminy over Carbonite’s saddle, and I hopped onto the back of Croach’s hoversaddle.

“Make for the canyon, but stop before we get there. We need to set up some kind of defendable position,” I told him, hanging on with an arm clenched around him as he took off full speed.

We came roaring in towards the canyon as the first grey tints of impending dawn began to saturate the sky, and Croach veered to a halt at the canyon mouth. The others zipped inside, and I scanned the rock face for a sniping position.

“See any good vantage points up there?” I asked, and it took him less than thirty seconds to locate a hidey-hole. We stowed the hoversaddle and clambered up the rough sandstone surface to the alcove. It was smaller than it looked; he slipped inside and then I had to wedge myself in beside him.

"Little snug," I grumbled, and he nudged me, gesturing with his head down towards the entrance to the canyon. A half-decayed human, one I thankfully didn't recognize, was staggering towards the opening, sniffing the air as if tracking our party. I struggled to unholster my laser pistol, but Croach had already withdrawn his slingshot.

"Bet you can't make that shot," I muttered, wiggling around to get my gun, and he went still and let loose, sending a small sharp stone rocketing through the air. It struck with a spurt of reddish sludge above the walker's ear, and it crumpled.

"Winner," he stage-whispered, and I rolled my eyes. Another figure was approaching, and I gestured with the barrel of my gun.

"Betcha can't make two in a row."

We spent an hour or two picking off wanderers, creating a small dam of bodies in the canyon mouth, when a welcome sight came riding out of the desert.

"Mercury! Felton! Alex!" I hollered, and the travelers looked up in alarm at my disembodied yell. I waved my hat, and Alex stood up in the saddle, waving vigorously back. Mercury picked his way through the bodies distastefully, and I pointed inwards to tell them where to meet up with the others.

"Now we're only missing Barkeep," I reckoned, feeling a creeping sensation of dread. If he didn't turn up...we'd have to count him among the dead.

"He is a highly capable human. He will return to us unharmed," Croach said comfortingly, and I nodded.

"Reckon we oughta--"

Suddenly a cloud of dust on the horizon caught my eye, and I elbowed Croach.

"What d'you reckon that is?"

He squinted, antennae twitching curiously.

"It is a single rider on horseback."

 

"A rider? Who?"

The dust cloud solidified into a charging horse the color of sand with a sharp reddish mane, a Martian breed of wild horse, and a short, stoutish rider.

"Is that...is that Barkeep?"

The rider came ripping up to the canyon, riding bareback, and was in fact our moustachioed keeper of the Space Saloon. I crawled out of the hole, elbowing Croach a dozen times in the process, and skidded down the incline as he approached the canyon. His clothes were blood and black-spattered, and the horse reared in alarm when I approached.

"Whoa, there. What happened to you, Barkeep?” I asked a touch incredulously as he calmed the skittish animal.

“Well I got separated from you all in the fightin’,” he explained, and Croach came clambering nimbly down from the cave to join us. “And decided the best way to avoid the trouble happenin’ in the place was to take off, so I ran. An’ I kept runnin’ until I found this here fella caught in a barbwire fence, raisin’ a ruckus and attracting some walkers to ‘im. I freed ‘im and stitched ‘im up, and now here we are.”

 

“Well we’re mighty glad you made it,” I said, clapping a hand on his leg, and the horse nickered warily at me and tossed its head.

Flanked by Barkeep and Croach I entered the sheltered canyon, relieved to see everyone else was accounted for. Well...everyone else we were expecting.

“Barkeep! You wrangled a horse?” Alex asked, coming up to the man as he dismounted, and he nodded, obviously proud.

“He’s a spirited feller, but he didn’t put up too much of a fight when he found out I had food for ‘im, the glutton,” he teased the horse, holding out a dry carrot from his rations. The horse nibbled at it, and Alex giggled.

“Does he have a name?”

“Reckon he needs one. You up to the task?”

She stared at the strong red creature, brushing her hand down his face. Her expression turned soft and somber.

“Pembroke. He should be called Pembroke.”

I rested a hand on her back briefly as I passed, approaching the rest of the group.

“Anybody bit?” I asked Red, and she shook her head. But celebration was premature. I did a quick headcount; Aminy and Kris were blood splattered and tear-streaked and stony faced respectively, and A’nyu had as blank and hollow an expression as I’d ever seen, even on a Marjun. Almost everyone had lost someone today.

“I know it ain’t right to ask this, but we gotta move on. It ain’t safe here.”

So we picked up the pieces of our lives and we kept living them.


	6. Before

I shone a beam of light through the hole we’d just busted in the window of the general store. Dust that had settled from a long-past storm rose up as we fanned out in search of supplies.

“Whad’ye reckon happened to Sue and Seth?” Remy breathed. I didn’t want to think about why the general store hadn’t opened in three days, and I slid my pack off my shoulders to stock up on rations that would keep. I didn’t know how long it would be until help came for us.

“Should we get anything that’s light? Or try to get things what go together?” Lukas asked his partner, and Remy came over to look at the plainly wrapped foodstuffs on the shelves. I pawed through the shelf, pulling out dehydrated milk, cornmeal, packages of salted bacon, cans of beans. Did we need baby food? Was the Baby Johnson eating real food? When did babies turn into toddlers? I didn’t know, so I pushed a few jars of mashed and nasty looking vegetables into the bag.

“Marshal…?” Nikka’s voice rasped from the back of the store, and I turned the light on them. Their eyes were wide, and the flashlight they were holding shook as it cut through the murky darkness.

The wooden door was ajar, and the screen door had been smashed to frayed fringe when something had stumbled through it. The shelves in the vicinity were tipped haphazardly askew, and one had fallen over.

“Think someone broke in?” I asked, and they seemed about to answer when a low sighing sound caught our attention and the settler started as the capsized shelf shifted. Someone--or something--was trapped under there. We all swung our lights around as a single hand emerged, clawing at the floorboards, and Nikka gave a strangled cry as they got their first glimpse of a walker. It was Seth Bontrager, one of the missing owners of the general store we had only moments before wondered after.

“O-Oh Lord save us,” one of them whispered, and I leveled my pistol and fired. Remy flinched, and I turned away as they murmured lowly amongst themselves.

So this...this is really happening,” Lukas whispered. “I didn’t want to believe it.”

I finished packing my bag and slung it over my shoulder, feeling the heavy weight settle against my back. “Wish it weren’t the way, but it is. C’mon, we oughta hurry.”

We collected as much as we could carry and hightailed it with anxious glances over our shoulders and nerves rattled something fierce. The rest of town seemed quiet as, well, the grave, and we were ushered into the Widow Johnson’s boarding house without incident.

“Did you get coffee?”

“What about sugar?”

“Was there any whole flour? Or only white?”

“Was there medicine there?”

“Did you see any walkers?”

“Alright, everybody needs to calm down,” I demanded, and aside from a few grumbles they obeyed. “We got all sorta supplies but they gotta be rationed out so everyone’s fair and so we don’t run down. Barkeep, yer in charge of the rationin’. And whether we saw any walkers is nobody’s business but those what been there.”

Barkeep took the bag from me, and I pushed through the townsfolk I was becoming frustrated with to pull Aminy aside, handing her a package of strong antibiotics.

“I got these for Melisa. How is she?”

She gestured for me to follow, and I followed the doctor-by-circumstance to the room where Brekany and Jonas were hidden away with their wounded family member. She didn’t look good: a pale, sickly sheen had broken out across her skin, and she lay so still I thought for a minute we were too late. But then Aminy knelt beside her and wiped her brow with a cloth, and she moaned softly.

“How’re you doin’?” I asked of Brekany, and she shrugged from where she sat with Jonas’ head on her shoulder. No words apparently.

Aminy slowly peeled the bandage away from Melisa’s shoulder and I felt a vague wave of nausea grip me. The bite itself was starting to fester, and dark veins splayed out across her skin in blackish tendrils. She didn’t stir when Aminy dabbed at it, and I shook my head and withdrew from the room with a grateful sigh.

I returned to the lobby to find that a squabble had broken out--rations allotment, rooming arrangements, issues with authority, I didn’t know what had caused it and really wished I didn’t have to care. But I was the Marshal. That badge was starting to feel pretty heavy.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. What’s the problem here?” I growled, and Nikka launched immediately into some kind of accusation towards Kris, whose patience I reckoned was beginning to wear to the verge of violence.

“She’s been eyein’ the rations I brought back this whole time!”

“Y’all went on a group run! They’re supposed to be fer all of us! Barkeep is backin’ me up on this, Marshal, Nikka’s bein’ unreasonable.”

“She’s making this such a hostile environment, I don’t think I wanna share with the likes of her.”

“It ain’t up to you if you share!”

“I--”

“Alright, Nikka why don’t you go on watch for a while and remove yourself from this hostile environment, why don’t you?” I suggested sharply.

“Whoa, what’s goin’ on down here?” Aminy asked in surprise as she and Brekany emerged from the stairwell and Kris drew her wife to her side for moral support.

“This critter is bein’ selfish and tryin’ to keep all--”

“That is not what I’m doin’!”

“Marshal!”

“Can you all just cut it out for half a --” a keening wail ripped through the din, and we all fell silent sharply. It came from upstairs, and Aminy and Brekany looked at each other with wide, terrified eyes.

“Jonas!”

I was halfway to the stairs when the cry cut short, and drew my gun as I approached the door housing the Wongs. “Comin’ in!” I roared, and kicked it open. I swore as I skidded and nearly slipped in something on the floor--something slick and wet and red-black. Jonas was pinned up against the wall with Melisa crouching over him, her teeth embedded in his neck. His broken jugular was the source of the slickness staining the bottom of my boots. His fingers were still twitching, and a horrible gurgle bubbled from his throat as she tore a mouthful of flesh from his throat.

She jerked and fell down against his chest when I shot her in the side of the head, eyes wide and glassy and a sick yellow. I shot him too, just in case. The door banged open again behind me as the others caught up to my long strides.

“What happened?”

“Marshal, is everything alright?”

“Is that blood?!”

“Oh Lord!”

“Melisa!!!” Brekany collapsed in a sobbing heap, and I pushed through them as the horror, alarm, and agony commenced. I had nothing I could say to them. No words could remedy this. I had let them keep Melisa in the house, and Jonas was dead because of my poor judgment.

“What’s goin’ on, Marshal? Is there trouble up in this place?” Barkeep asked as I came unsteadily down the stairs, and I leaned on the front desk and wearily ran a hand over my face as sobs of grief and terror sounded like sirens from upstairs.

“Got any space whiskey, Barkeep?” I asked, and my voice came out shredded and weak. I cleared my throat, took my hat off, ran a hand through my hair. “I could use a drink.”

He shook his head, and the clamor of footsteps on the steps thundered down the hallway. I closed my eyes, clapped my hat back on my head, and straightened up as folks appeared with questions to answer and panic to counter and fears to assuage. Time to Marshal up.

“How could this’ve happened?”

“I thought it warn’t infectious!”

“No one said anything about that.”

“And you just shot her! Without even checking--” Brekany broke off in a sob, and Kris drew her closer soothingly.

“She was already gone, Brek. Don’t blame Nevada,” she murmured, and I shot the blacksmith a thankful look.

“I did what had to be done. I’m sorry I had to.”

“I thought we’d be safe here…”

“Warn’t that the reason we left our homes? To be safe in numbers?”

“Maybe we’d be better off alone.”

“We are safe now,” I retorted to the mutinous mumbles, and Lucas sneered maliciously at me, “Jonas ain’t safe! Melisa isn’t safe!”

“I know that! Don’t you reckon I know?” I snapped, interrupting the ruckus, “Fightin’ amongst ourselves ain’t doin’ nobody no good. You got a problem, come talk to me. Widow Johnson, you wanna get everyone squared away in rooms now so we can at least get some rest?”

She nodded, and set about passing out keys and numbers quick and efficient like, and I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. If we couldn’t keep the peace between ourselves, the walkers wouldn’t need to get us. We’d destroy ourselves from the inside out.

“Marshal, I put you’n Barkeep in the front facing room together. You need anything, let me know,” Widow Johnson said, pressing a key into my hand. I nodded gratefully and watched as everyone began milling off, grumbling and grouching, to get some much needed rest. The room cleared and I checked the locks on the doors, the boards on the windows, the rations stacked neatly behind the desk. When there was nothing to do but get some sleep I tramped upstairs.

Barkeep was snoring away when I came in, and I lay down on my back on the mat unrolled on the floor. The house rustled with the sounds of sleep, and I closed my eyes. I hadn’t had time to worry about Croach or Red up til now, but in the quiet dark uncertainty and fear crept in. Why hadn’t I heard from either of them?

‘C’mon Nevada,’ I chided, ‘Red’s the most capable lone rider you know. An’ nothin’ could sneak up on Croach. They’re fine. They’re both fine.’

I rolled on my side, trying to muffle my worry and Barkeep’s hideous snoring. It was more or less in vain; both slipped through the cracks in my consciousness and in between my fingers, keeping me from the sleep I longed for.

I rolled onto my other side with a frustrated sigh when a sound caught my ear. A low murmur of voices, as a group of people talking in hushed tones, and the shuffle-scrape-thump of hasty packing drifted up from the lobby directly beneath my room. I rose and crept to the door, stepping out and tiptoeing downstairs.

A single lantern flickered in the lobby, and a group of figures huddled around it: I recognized them immediately as Remy, Lucas, and Nikka. They were looting through the cache of supplies and whispering conspiratorially.

“Can I help you folks find somethin’?” I asked from the darkness, and they started guiltily. Remy banged his head on the desk, swearing under his breath.

“Marshal! Evenin’,” Lucas greeted casually, and I folded my arms as I stepped into the circle of light thrown by the lantern.

“Evenin’. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on here?” I asked expectantly, and they exchanged some glances before Lucas spoke up from behind the desk.

“We gathered this here loot an’ don’t feel much like givin’ it away to folks what didn’t help get it.”

“No, we gathered this look for everyone. Ain’t no room for bein’ greedy here.”

“We’re gonna need it where we’re goin’! You can just get more from the store,” Nikka said shrilly, and Lucas shot them a silencing look.

“Wait, where you’re goin’? Where is that exactly?”

“Lucas and I’ve been preparin’ for something’ like this,” Remy said, eyes flicking nervously between me and the others. “We’ve got some supplies stockpiled back at our place. We can hold out for months if we have to.”

“You’re just now seein’ fit to tell me this?” I demanded, and the frontiersmen exchanged a look.

“There’s not enough for so many people,” Lucas said firmly. “It ain’t personal, we’re just bein’ realistic. Nikka’s our good friend--we can’t take anyone to slow us down or who ain’t useful. You understand right?” He gave me a slimy-smooth smile, and I bristled.

“This is somethin’ you oughta put to the group. This here’s a democracy, more or less, an’ I can’t let you go off without the others knowin’.”

I saw movement in the corner of my eye, and went for my pistols instinctively, before remembering I’d left them in my room. The soft click of a cocking pistol in my ear revealed a fourth conspirator.

“We ain’t really aimin’ to negotiate,” O’Toole said quietly. “Sorry Marshal.”

“So you plannin’ on shootin’ me if I raise a ruckus?” I asked, heart beating hard. I didn’t think O’Toole would have it in him to shoot me, and Remy and Nikka were cowards, but Lucas...I wasn’t so sure.

“Preferably not. But shootin’ ain’t the only thing what a gun can do.”

A sharp pain lanced through my head and I crumpled to my knees as bright spots danced in front of my eyes.

“Sorry, Marshal,” O’Toole said again, then another strike sent me world rolling black.

 

 


	7. Now

Mars may be 141.71 million miles from the sun, but that doesn’t amount to much in the big picture of space and the cosmos and such. In daytime its rays blast the surface with radiation, bringing temperatures to the triple digits fahrenheit, and we were feeling every single digit on a day like today.

“Nevada! Stop the march fer a minute, we got a woman down back here!” Red’s voice carries more than anyone I know, and I heard her even from the front of the caravan. I pulled Mercury up short at her request, motioning for those directly behind me to have a breather. I rode back to where the group was fanning a fainter. It was Aminy; her lips were chapped and cracked, and her dusty skin had an angry red tinge to it.

“Anybody got any water left?” I asked mid-dismount. Kris shook her head, and Alex mimicked the gesture as she fanned with the broad-brimmed hat she had been given from Brekany’s things. I unslung my canteen, shaking it experimentally. A tiny slosh greeted me, and I crouched down next to her and uncapped it. A thin drizzle trickled from the lip of the canteen into the frontierswoman’s parted mouth. Kris stroked her forehead soothingly, and Alex picked up the pace of her fanning. Aminy coughed, and I breathed a sigh of relief when her eyelids fluttered.

“Carbonite fit to bear two riders?” I asked, and Red nodded. We helped the woozy woman up on the saddle and Red hopped up behind her.

“Everybody else alright to keep on?” I called, and was met with a chorus of halfhearted and weary affirmatives. We plodded on towards nightfall when the distant sun shot the sky, making it bleed gold and pink and orange until it died a soft green. Night brought relief from the heat, but it also brought danger.

“You good to take the first watch tonight, Croach?” I asked as he settled his hoversaddle beside the others. We were running low on fuel too.

“I do not suffer from dehydration and fatigue as severely as you and your human compatriots, Sparks Nevada. I am able to take watch. I will keep a vigilant watch this nocturnal cycle,” he promised, and I clapped him gratefully on the shoulder.

Out in the darkness, the muffled sounds of grief arose from the company. It was going to be a long night for all of us.

\--

I woke to two sensations; the rough back and forth of my shoulder being shaken, and the impossible wet heavy impacts on my face of rain.

“Sparks, Sparks wake up! It’s raining!” Alex cried, joyful and incredulous, and I sat up and looked skyward in disbelief. Large, round, swollen droplets fell like hailstones, spattering in huge impact craters in the martian soil. I laughed and got to my feet as Alex roused other heavier sleepers as the rest of the company rose, blinking, smiles spreading across faces that hadn’t smiled in days, weeks, months.

I opened my mouth, dry as cotton and fuzzy with sleep and dehydration, and a few drops fell on my tongue. Rain never tasted quite as sweet on Mars as it did on Earth, but I wasn’t complaining.

“Open the canteens, turn over the pots and pans, we gotta catch some o’ this!” Red hollered, and I threw my arms out to soak the moisture directly through my skin, grinning like a fool. Alex came running across the camp, her dark hair plastered to her neck, and leapt into my arms. I spun her around once before my boots slipped in the dirt becoming mud and we fell in a laughing pile.

“It’s a miracle!” she said breathlessly, and I sprawled back, making a mud angel. I tossed a handful her way, splattering brown across her cheek and neck.

“Hey!” she retaliated, smearing my face with dirt. I threw another glob at her and she ducked with a squeal, and my missile sailed over her head to collide with a splat with the back of a head of loosely braided red hair. The Red Plains Rider turned, touching the offending wetness as if she had to assure herself it had really just happened. Her gaze turned wrathful and fiery as it fell on me and I tried to act casual whilst implicating Alex in the crime, but I knew she didn’t buy it. She crouched down, scooping up a handful of wet mud, and I scrambled back.

“Naw, Red, c’mon, don’t. I didn’t mean to,” I begged, and she stepped closer slowly, packing the mud into something like a shape.

“Take it like a woman, Nevada,” she suggested, and I ducked behind Alex, who complained loudly and pushed me away.

“Ain’t the saying take it like a man?”

“Not when I say it.”

“I don’t think you can just go around changin’ sayings when you feel like it,” I pointed out, and dodged hard right. She saw through my play and I spat mud when she hit me square in the mouth with it.

“Your fleeing skills leave much to be desired, Sparks Nevada,” Croach commented snidely from a safe distance, and I used the hem of my coat to clean the muck off my face.

“Laugh it up, Marjun. I know for a fact she could kick your ass just as easy as mine.”

Red nodded sympathetically, wiping her hands on my blanket, and Croach flushed slightly green the way he does when he’s about to get butthurt about something.

“I could match the Red Plains Rider evenly in a contest of strength or speed or agility, and I could easily out track her. She is, however, more fierce than I and thus I do not wish to spark her anger!” the pitch of his words rose sharply towards the end as he tried to run from the oncoming storm, but she grabbed him by the back of his leather jerkin and threw him bodily down in the mud. Alex cackled as he floundered, and Red put her hands on her hips, flipping her braid over her shoulder.

“Damn right,” she replied, but Croach retaliated by tackling her, sending up a splash of mud that flecked Alex and I head to toe. The two Marjun-raised beings wrestled, growling and swearing and laughing; Red put Croach in a headlock, and the martian clawed at the hem of my duster for help.

“Whoa, hey, I ain’t gettin’ involved in--” their tangle of limbs knocked my legs out from under me and I went down hard with a yell. A brief scuffle ensued in which there was an unfair amount of prodding, hair-pulling, mud smearing, and elbowing--not to mention tickling of the Marshal, which was a ticketable felony. When it was clear there would be no winner the struggle became a sort of weird giggling mess, and we sprawled back weakly with Red’s head on my chest and Croach’s legs draped over mine, his head pillowed on her hip. The others were filling containers and running around with their mouths open, and Treef was doing some kind of rain dance, probably to thank Nah Notek for the downpour or something. Some were crying, or laughing, or praying--whatever made them feel better.

I saw Alex standing off by herself looking up into the rain, and I tossed a rock at her boot to get her attention.

“C’mere, Buckaroo.”

She crawled in next to us in the mud, settling under my arm, and I squeezed her shoulder as a collective sigh went through the heap. I felt something I hadn’t in a long time--maybe ever. Like no matter what was going on out there, this was how we should be.

“We’re gonna be okay, aren’t we Sparks?” Alex murmured, and I ruffled her wet hair.

“Reckon. Right Red?”

“Sure, cowpoke.”

“Right Croach?”

“Indeed, fledgling human designated Alexandria Cartwright.”

“See?” I said, nudging her with my arm around her shoulder, “Told ya. Marjuns don’t lie and Red’s the second best lawkeeper on the planet. If we all say it’s gonna be fine, it will.”

“Whoa, hold on--second best?” Red demanded sharply, sitting up fast and making Croach fall facefirst in the mud. He spluttered indignantly, and Alex and I hooted with laughter, and I thought that maybe I wasn’t even lying to make her feel better. Maybe we really would be alright.

When we had reveled in the grace of God or Nah Notek or the freak weather patterns of the red planet for long enough, we made our way, mud splattered and light-spirited, back to our original heading towards the mountains and high ground. Our canteens had only been half filled, and our bellies were a bit on the empty side, but we were alive--which was moe than could be said for some members of our party.

The night after the rainstorm we held a small funeral in the fresh scented dusk around the campfire. The townsfolk said a few words, the Marjuns sang a memorial hymn, and we bedded down in silence. I don’t know if it meant much to the ones who’d lost, but it felt like the right thing to do.

The morning of our thirty-sixth day of wandering the desert dawned, and an hour or so after high noon Treef the Rockskipper zipped up beside me on her hoversaddle.

“Marshal Nevada, Croach the Tracker has spotted something which may be of interest to you,” she said, and I told the others to hold course before veering off to where Croach was scouting. He stood on the ridge we had been following for some miles, his hand raised to shield his eyes from the harsh glare of sunlight.

“Whatcha trackin’, Croach?” I asked as I rode up, and he pointed North.

“I have sighted a human habitation a mile off. There appear to be no inhabitants, but it is likely we will find supplies within.”

I squinted in the direction he indicated, but couldn’t see anything but dust and sand and the wavy lines of evaporating water. I trusted his senses more than mine though, so I nodded.

“Reckon we’ll get a scouting party together, check ‘er out. Who do you want with you?”

“You and The Red Plains Rider,” he answered without hesitation, and I smiled slightly.

“Just like old times then, huh?”

Instead of a comment about how time itself cannot possess an age or how I was incorrectly assigning physical characteristics to an idea, he just rested a hand on Mercury’s neck by my knee and said, “Like old times.”

After some brief rearranging of authority I left Treef the Rockskipper in charge under the Widow Johnson’s watchful sniper’s eye and the three of us rode off in the direction of the supposed homestead, I on Mercury and Red and Croach doubling up on Carbonite. Red shot a rabbit Croach spotted and draped it over the back of her saddle, and for a while it felt like we were back to before everything went to hell.

The sensation didn’t last. As we approached the shape of the wooden building, shadows began to criss-cross our path as space buzzards circled overhead. I drew a laser pistol, and Croach drew his bow tensely.

The homestead seemed normal and quiet enough: a two story wooden structure with a few windows, a wooden shingled roof, and a small shed or barn and an outhouse out back. But the door had been either knocked or torn off its hinges, and the innards gaped blackly.

We dismounted, approaching cautiously. I signalled for the others to cover me and plunged first into the darkness, blinking as my eyes adjusted. I inhaled and immediately wished I hadn’t.

The stench of rotting flesh hung sour, sickly-sweet and heavy in the interior of the homestead, and flies beat themselves against the glass windows in droves.

“Watch yer step,” I warned; the floor was streaked with blackening gore, and I grimaced as I took my boot out of a pile with a squelch.

“Any dead, alive, or otherwise about Croach?”

The Martian stalked past me, tense and animal-like, antennae quivering as he read invisible scents and signs. He glanced upwards and gestured to indicate there was 1 hostile. I tightened my grip on my guns and stepped cautiously up the stairs. There were three doors on the second floor--one was open into a dark closet, the others were closed. Croach nodded to the one on the left side of the hall, and I moved up to the door as Red leveled her rifle. We mouthed a silent ‘one, two, three,’ and I pushed it open sharply and stepped back.

Nothing lunged out at us, so we stepped inside carefully. I gagged and pushed my bandana up around my nose to block out the smell, and Croach shuddered nauseously. A gargling hiss emanated from the corner, and a walker--or more so, half of one--came crawling out of the shadows. It had gnawed its own arms to the bone up to the shoulders, and dragged a trail of internal organs that weren’t so internal anymore behind it. Red put her boot on its neck, holding it writhing and yowling as she drew her machete.

“No reason to waste charge,” she muttered, and slid the knife neatly through the walker’s eye socket into its brain cavity. It fell still and she jerked the blade free, wiping it on the hem of her dusty.

“Let’s scout for supplies.”

We branched off to scour the property. Most of the bedrooms had been pretty sufficiently ransacked by whatever struggle had ensued when the inhabitants met the walkers, but I did find a thick blanket and an empty canteen on the top shelf of the closet. I tucked my findings into my pack and forced open the second bedroom door.

This room held a wash basin, a free standing tub, a small bed, and a crib. There was no sign of a struggle here, but flies droned about in the rancid air and I grimaced at the tiny corpse I glimpsed through the bars. At least it hadn’t turned or been eaten by those that had. A death of dehydration or starvation was better than the alternatives.

I turned the faucet of the tub and after a rough splutter of dirty water it ran strong and clear. I dipped my filthy hands in the stream and rinsed away the dirt and dust. I suddenly wanted nothing more than a warm shower, but settled for soaking my bandana and dabbing at my face and neck, rinsing mud and caked blood from my skin. I filled my canteen and the new pillaged one and clomped down the stairs to tell the others to do the same.

Red was in the kitchen, and gestured from the pantry for me to join her. She had found a stockpile of goods: preserves of mars peaches and moonberries, flour, space corn, even some strips of dried jerky. We packed it away and went out back where Croach was proudly lugging a barrel of oil from the shed. We’d be able to refuel the hoversaddles, which was more than I had dared to hope for.

“Good find on this place, Croach,” I complimented, “you prolly done reduced your onus to me by half with this.”

“By two thirds, in fact,” he corrected, and we lashed the supplies to our saddles and rode for the group with a sensation of victory.


End file.
